CHARLOTTE MESSENGER.
VOL. I. NO. 50.
A SONG OF WAKING.
The maple hnds are red, are red,
The robin’s call is sweet;
The blue sky floats above thy head,
The violets kiss thy feet.
The sun paints emeralds on the spray
And sapphires on the lake ;
A million wings unfold to-day, •
A million dowers awake.
Their starry cups the cowslips lift
To catch the golden Tight,
And like a spirit fresh from si
The cherry tree is white.
The innocent looks up with eyes
That know no deeper shade
Than falls from wings of butterflies
Too fair to make afraid.
With long, green raiment blown and wet
The willows, hand in hand,
X«an low to teach the rivulet
What trees may understand
Os murmurous tune and idle dance,
With broken rhymes whose flow
A poet’s ear shall catch, perchance,
A score of miles below.
Across the sky to fairy realm
There sails adoudboin ship;
A wind sprite standeth at the helm,
With laughter on his lip ;
The melting masts are tipped with gold*
The broidered penuons stream ;
The vessel beareth in her hold
The lading of a dream.
It is the hour to rend thy chains.
The bloesom time of 6ouls.
Yield all the rest to care and pains :
To-day delighc controls.
Gird on thy glory and thy pride,
For growth is of the sun.
Expand thy wings what e’er betide,
The summer is begun.
—Katherine Lee Bates.
A WHITE HEART DIAMOND.
Mr. Peter Pinto was perhaps one
of the most enthusiastic of modern
collectors.
Far be it Irom us to convey the im
pression that he went around with a
pencil ami a pocketbook bulging full
of papers in behalf of gas companies
and’ cheap coal associations. On the
contrary, he despised trade and all its
plebeian concomitants. He kept a
genealogical tree, and prided himself
on bejng distantly related to some one
or other who had come over in the
Mayflower, and having a cousin who
had once known Longfellow, the poet.
He read, studied high art and devoted
himself to the dream-world of the ideal.
His lloors were carpeted with tiger
skins, dimly splendid draperies hung
on his walls and shut out what little
sunshine filtered through the mediaeval
glass of his stained windows. • He de
lighted in moldy folios, rare editions,
grinning Chinese idols and masses of
charmingly ugly Eastern lac iuer
work.
Hut the taste which had the strong
est possession of his soul, and which
dragged most persistently at his purse
strings, was one for precious stones.
“ If it hadn't been for that, I should
iiave been a ricli man long ago,” sighed
Mr. Pinto. “Os course 1 can’t indulge
in it, as I should like—no man could,
unless he had the income of a duke.
But I can aspire—l can aspire!” _
And as Mr. Peter Pinto had in
herited a snug little fortune from his
father, and fallen heir to the united
savings of several maiden aunts, he
had been enabled to prosecute his
caprice in no contemptible degree. He
owned an Eastern opal, a black pearl,
a pair of unapproacliablv-tinted
topazes, several peculiarly-shaped tur
quoises and an agate with a human
face distinctly massed in its outlines.
He kept his treasures locked in velvet
lined i ases within the iron jaws of a
tremendous fireproof safe, and prowled
around the jewelry stores, pawnshops
and second-hand repositories with a
perseverance worthy of Bruce’s spider.
And when he became meditative and
inclined to lie confidential he would
say:
“ I think if once I could gain pos
session of this white heart diamond I
should be quite—quite happy !”
But the white heart diamond had to
all appearance been with Irawn from
circulation. It was known only by
rumor. It had retired somewhere into
conventual seclusion, an t with un
paralleled modesty de link'd to re
appear.
That there hail once been a white
heart diamond was proved by the Con
versation of grizzle-headed old lapi
daries, who hail grown crooked by long
sitting over magnifying glasses, and
the tales of retired jewelers who had
made their fortunes long ago.
From all accounts it was a stone of
medium size, but rare color and fire—
a stone which was a veritable General
George Washington diamonds
—a stone whoee renown had eVen
CHARLOTTE, MECKLENBURG CO., N. C., JUNE 30, 1883.
reached foreign parts and achieved the
dignity of an especial article in the
Lapidaries’ Journal of Vienna.
And to Mr. Peter Pinto the white
heart diamond represented the roe's
egg of Aladdin’s palace!
Until one day an old workman in
precious stones beckoned him into the
den where he was cutting sapphires
with a whirling little wheel, which
sung like a NRrhonicul bumblebee at
its work.
“ I’ve heerd of it,” said he.
“ Of—” gasped Mr. Pinto.
“Os the white heart diamond!” said
the workman.
“No!” shouted the collector, breath
lessly.
“As true as you live,” nodded the
old man. “ I always knowed it was in
the,Jorgensen family. Couldn’t ha’ got
out o’ it, don’t you see ? But I never
found out afore yesterday as there was
an old lady—Mi.-s Mehitable Jorgen
sen—a second cousin of old Jan Jor
gensen’s daughter, livin’, up in the
Catskills. There was some old-fash
ioned sleeve-buttons come in to be
mended yesterday, with ‘J. ,I.’ on ’em.
Bless your heart! I could have told
old Jen’s twisted initials anywhere.
Didn't have no monograms in them
days, you know. Niece left 'em. A
pretty girl, with red cheeks. I’m to
send ’em back by mail when they’re
done.”
Mr. Pinto drew a long breath.
“ I’ll go tj the Catskills at once,
said he.
“Fair and softly, fair and softly!”
said old Caleb Grinder. “The white
heart diamond was always shy game.
Mind you don’t frighten it!”
“ I shall know how to behave,” said
Mr. Pinto, with dignity. “Theaddress,
Grinder, if you please.”
And so, clad like unto the inevitable
sketching tourist who infests all the
wildernesses within a hundrel miles
of New York, Mr. Peter Pinto “put
money in his purse” and started for
the cottage in the Catslfltts, resolved
to approach the subject with the most
cautious winds and turnings of diplo
matic skill. .
Miss Jorgensen was a tall, crooked
woman of fifty, with scant, iron-gray
hair v a forbidding visage, and eyes as
sharp and keen as those of a hawk.
Hetty, her niece—Mehitable, junior,
as the old lady called her—was plump
and pink-checked, with hair of real
poet’s gold, and a laugh like the chirp
of a blackbird.
"Oh, yes,” said Hetty, with the ut
most frankness, “ aunty will be glad
to take a boarder. Only, pleaseryou
may transact all the business with me.
Aunty belongs to a fine old family—
I’m only related on the mother’s side
—and it hurts her pride to think of
keeping hoarders. So, if you would
make believe to he a visitor it would
be a great accommodation, and no
harm done. We can only spare the
little garret bedroom; but there’s a
fine view, and you will find everything
very clean.”
And thus to his unmitigated sur
prise and amazement Mr. Pinto found
himself at last under the same roof
with the white heart diamond.
Os coursq there was a certain out
ward show to be kept up. Mr. Pinto
was obliged to spend much of his time
in the woods making meaningless at
tempts at sketching, while his heart
yearned after the mystic jewel.
He strove vainly for something like
eonfidential intimacy with his host: ss;
but in v4iin—Miss Jorgensen froze
him. (She kept him at ceremonial'
arm’s-length.
Hetty was social, smiling, always
ready to talk, but Miss Jorgensen never
forgot that she belonged to afamily.
Until, one day, an inspiration seized
upon our hero.
“ By jove I” he profanely exclaimed,
“I’ll.marry the old woman, if there
isn't any other way to get at the
white heart diamond 1”
But that evening as he came in a
little later than usual, with the purple
twilight glowing in the horizon, and a
score of whip-poor-wills singing in the
glen, he met Hetty at the gate. She
started and colored like a rose bud,
and, murmuring some trivial excuse,
flitted away.
Mr. Pinto stooped and picked up a
flower which she had dropped.
“ Hello!” he said to himself; “this
complicates matters. Little Hetty is
in love with me I"
It was not such an unpleasant idea;
but, of course, it could not he enter
tained for a single momint. The
white heart diamond was his soul's
sweetheart. The wiiite heart diamond
only was the treasure on width he was
bent. *
Accidentally, as it seemed, but in
reality from a carefully-laid train of
associations, the conversation turned
on jewels that evening, as Miss Jor-
gensen sat knitting by the lamp, and
Hetty was picking oyer blackberries
! for the morrow’s jam, in the outer
parch.
j “Talking of diamonds,” said Miss
Jorgensen, fortifying herself with a
pinch of snuff—Mr. Pinto hated snuff
i —“there’s a very valuable Siam in our
! family, which—”
“ Aunt,” said H<jtty,,_coming in,
'• Mrs. Didcombe wants to see you just
! a minute, about the next meeting of
j the Dorcas society.”
Miss Jorgensen bustled out. Mr.
Pinto smote the table with the flat of
1 his hand.
“I’ll do it!” he said.
1 And he did it within the next half
' hour.
i “It may seem premature, dear Miss
i Jorgensen,” he said, after having gone
stiffly down upon his knees, “ but our
lu arts do not beat by rule or calendar.
I behold in'you a congenial spirit. I
love yon ! Will you be mine?”
“ Goodness me t” said Miss Jorgen
sen. “ Well, I never did! But, of
course, if your happiness is involved—
I wonder what Hetty will say ?”
Mr. Pinto clasped the wrinkled hand,
pressed a kiss on the snuff-tiavored
cheek, and with an ecstatic thrill
thought of the white heart diamond.
Hetty came smiling in presently, and
Miss Jorgensen told her of the new
page in her life’s history.
Mr. Pinto expected to spe her blush,
scream, or perhaps even faint away.
But she did none of the time. She did
| not behave at all like a broken-hearted
; heroine of romance.
“Oh, I’m so glad!” said she. “Now
I can leave you with a clear conscience,
Aunt Mehitable.”
“She has been engaged to Philo
Wetherlie for a year,” explained Miss
Jorgensen. “P’raps you've noticed
her of an evening hanging over the
gate waitin’ for him to go by with the
cows.”
“Oh, aunty, I didn’t!” said Hefty.
“La, child, it’s nothing to be
ashamed -of,” said Miss Jorgensen,
chuckling.
Mr. Pinto bit his lip. He would
like to have pitched Philo Wetherlie,
whomever he might lie, over the cliff.
But, however, this had nothing to do
witli the while heart diamond, and
when Hetty tripped out again he led
the way as gently as possible to the
fascinating subject once again.
“ You were speaking,” said he, with
an insinuating smile, “of a famous dia
mond which—”
“Oh, yes,” said Miss Jorgensen.
“The white heart diamond, they called
it.”
“ I am something of a judge of such
matters," said Mr. Pinto, his heart
beating a reveille in his bosom. “If
you would allow me to look atit—”
Miss Jorgensen shook her head.
“ I couldn’t,” 8 tid she. “ I sold it
three and twenty years ago to my
cousin, Philo Jorgens n. He was
drowned on the very next voyage* he
made to Amsterdam—diamond and all,
for he always carried it in a little
chamois-leather bag next his heart.
He had a very good imitation put into
the setting for me. I’ve got it some
where upstairs. And, alter all, what
could I do with a thousand-dollar dia
mond V”
Mr. Pinto drew his breath with a
little gasp. Had he sold hii elf for
the rest of his days for a mere, bit of
paste, a fasceted lump of glass,, vhile
all the time the white heart diamond
lay fathoms dep in the sea? Angels !
and ministers of grace defend him! It I
could not be !
But he had a great deal of fortitude !
and self-reliance. He played the de
voted lover to Miss Jorgensen’s entire
satisfaction all the evening, hut when
Hetty came to call him to breakfast
the next morning his bed had not
been slept in, and he was over the hills
and far away.
In fact he had run away.
Miss Jorgensen was rather indig
nant at first, hut when Hetty ex
claimed, “He must be a crazy man,
aunty,” she concluded that all was
undoubtedly for the best.
“ But,” she said, with a smirk, “he
was certainly very much in love!”
“ Yes, indee 1, aunty,” said Hetty,
with the utmost gravity.
And thus briefly and logically ended
Mr. Pinto's search for the famous
white heart diamond —Helen Forrest
(Jra res. \
■ - ■ —-
The value of railway property in
Missouri In 1882, ai estimated hv the
railroad commissioners, was $9:1,0?),-
000, an d the gross earnings $28,000,-
000. .
The number of poet offices in the
United States, exclusive of those es-'
tablished within the preeent official
year. Is 46,231.
TIIE BAD BOY'S AMBITION.
H 5 RETIRES FROM THE SODA
WATER BUSINESS.
And Obtains a Permnnent Position ns a
sii||,pr iu n Theatre. Intending to Heroine
a Seeonil Booth.
“ You look sleepy,” said the grocery
tm n *o tj.e bail.boy, as ife came in tn'e
store -yawning, and stretched himself
out on the counter with his head on a
pile of brown wrapping paper, in reach
of a box of raisins; “ what’s the mat
ter? Been sitting up with your girl
all night ?”
“ Naw ! I wish I had. Wakefulness
with my girl is sweeter and more rest
ful than sleep. No, this is the result
of being a dutiful son, and I am tired.
You see pa and ma have separated.
That is, not for keeps, but pa has got
; frightened about burglars, and he goes
up into the attic to sleep. He savs it
is to get fresh air, but he knows better,
i Ma ha; got so accustomed to pa's
snoring that she can’t go to sleep
without it, and the first night pa lett
she didn't sleep a wink, and yester
day 1 was playing on an old 'a cor
dion that I traded a dog collar for
after our dog was poisoned, and when
1 touched the low notes I noticed ma
dozed off to sleep, it sounded so much
like pa's snore, and last night nta made
me set up and p'.ay for her to sleep.
She rested splendid, but lam all broke
up, and I sold the accordion this morn
ing to the watchman wh i watches our
block. It is queer what a different
effect mu-ic will have on different peo
ple. While ma was sleeping the sleep
of innocence under the influence of my
counterfeit of pa's sm re, the night
watchman was broke of his rest by it,
and he bought it ot me to give it to the
son of an enemy of his. Well, I have
quit jerking soda.”
“No, you don’t tell me,” said the
grocery man, as he move! the box of
raisins out of reach. “ You never will
amount to anything unless you
to one trade or profession. A rolling
hen never catches the early angle
worm.”
“ Oh. but 1 am all right now. In the
soda business there is no chance for
genius to rise, unless the soda fountain
explodes. It is all wind, and one gets
tired of constant fizz. He feels that
he is a fraud, and when he puts a little
syrup in a tumbler and fires a little
sweetened wind and water in it, until
the soapsuds 611 the tumbler, and
charges ten cents for that which only
costs a cent, a sensitive soda jerker,
who has reformed, feels that it is worse
than three-card monte. I couldn’t
stand the wear on my conscience, so I
have got a permanent job as a super,
and shall open the first of September.”
“Say, what’s a super? It isn’t one
of these free lunch places, that the
mayor closes at midnight, is it?” and
the grocery man looked sorry.
“ Oh, thunder, you want salt on you.
A super is an adjunct to the stage. A
supe is a fellow that assists the stars
and things, carrying chairs and taking
up carpets, and sweeping the sand off
the stage after a dancer has danced a
jig, and he brings beer for the actors,
and does anything that he can to add
to the effect of the play. Privately,
now, I have been acting as a supe for
a long time, on the sly, and my folks
didn't know anything about it, but
since I reformed anil decided to be
good, I felt it my duty to tell ma and
pa about it. The news broke ma all
up, at first, but pa said some, of the
best a tors in this country were supes
once, anil some of them were now, and
he thought suping would be the making
of me. Ma thought going on the stage
wouli| be my ruination, nhe said tne
theatre was the hotbel of sin. and
brought mure ruin than the church
could head off. But when I told her
that they always gave a supe two or
three extra tickets for his family, she
said the theatre had some redeeming
features, and when I said my entrance
upon the stage would give me a splen
did opportunity to get the recipe for
fa e powder from the actresses.for ma,
and 1 could find out how the actresses
managed to get number four feekinto
numb r one shoes, ma said she wished
I would eommence suping right off.
Mo says there are s one things about
the theatre that are not so altired had,
and she wants me to get seats for the
first comic opera that comes along. Pa
wants it umier.-tood with the manager
that a stipe’s father lias a right to go
behind the scenes to see that no harm
befalls him, bet I know what pa wants.
He may seem pious, and all that, but he
likes to look at ballet girls better than
any meek and lowly follower I ever
see, and some day you will hear music
in the »ir. Pa thinks theatres are
very bad, when he has to pay a dollar
for a reserved seat, but when he oac
sat in for nothing as a relative of one
W. C. SMITH. PnWislier.
of the ‘perfesh,’ the theatre.has many
redeeming qualities. Pa and ma think
I am going into the business fresh and
green, but I know all about it. When
I played with McCullough here
once—”
“Oh, what you giving us,” said
the grocery man in disgust, “ when
J-bu played with McCullough I What
did you do?”
“What did 1 do? Why, you old
seed cucumber, the whole play centered
around me. Do you remember the
scene In the Homan forum, where Mc-
Cullough addressed the populace of
Home. I was the populace. Don’t
you remember a small feller standing
in front of the Boman orator taking
it in; with a night shirt on, with bare
lcg3 and Arms? That was me, and
everything depended on me. Sup
pose I had gone off the stage
at the critical moment, or laughed
when I should have looked fierce at the
inspired w ords of the Roman senator,
it would iiave been a dead give away
on McCullot gii. As the populace of
Rome I consider myself a glittering
success, and Me took me by the hand
when they carried Caeear’s dead body
out. and lie said, ‘us three did our
selves proud.’ Such praise from Mc-
Cullough is seldom accorded to a
supe. But I don’t consider the pop
ulac • of the imperial city of Rome my
masterpiece. Where I excel is in
coming out before the curtain be
tween the acts and unhooking the
carpet. Some supes go out and turn
their backs to the audience, showing
patches on their pants, and rip up the
carpet with no style about them, and
the dust flies, and the boys yell ‘supe,’
and the supe gets nervous and for
gets itis cue, and goes off tumbling
over the carpet, and the orchestra
leader is afraid the supe will fall
on him. But Igo out witli a quiet
dignity that is only gained by experi
ence, and I take hold of the carpet the
way Hamlet. t-Vres un'the skul! of
Y&i.oK, and the audience is paralyzed.!
I kneel down on the carpet, to unhook
it, in a devotional sort of away that
makes the audience bow their heads
as though they were in church, and
before they realize that I am only a
supe I have the carpet unhooked amt
march out. They never ‘guy’ m
cause I act well my part.”
‘ Well, I’d like to go behind the seel
with you some night,” said the grocH
man, offering the bad boy an orangS
get solid with him, in view of futn
complimertary tickets. “No dang&
is there?’
“No danger if you keep off tliM
grass. Some time next fall you put
a clean shirt and a pair of sheet iron,
pants, witli stove legs on the inside,,
and I will take you behihd the scenesi
to see some good moral show. In- the
meantime, if you have.cccasion lotalki
with pa, tell him that Booth,' and Bar
rett, and Keene commenced on the 1
stage as supes, and Salvini roasted;
peanuts in the lobby of some theatre.
I want our folks to feel that I am'
taking the right course to become a
star. I prythe au reservoir. I go
hens, but to return. Avaunt I’’ And
the bad boy walked oat on his toes a
la Booth.— Peck’s Hun.
Electricity aud Storms.
The question of the electric nature,
of cyclones is a question of fact, and,
cannot be determined by balancing
opinions. Facts alone can decide, by,
proving or disproving that cyclones ? re
caused by electricity. 1 maintain that
not only cyclones, but all the phenom
ena of the atmosphere are electric in
their nature and character. The facts
upon which I strongly rely and adduce
to prove the electrical nature of cy
clones cannot be stated here, for they
are too voluminous. The substance,,
however, is briefly as follows: A lumi
nous or fiery cloud-spot is seen to de
scend from the clouds, which is met by
a flash from the earth where the spout
touches. Simultaneous witli the flash
everything free at the point struck ex
plodes into fragments, is carried clean
away, anti generally hurled into the
clouds through the vortex. Likewise,
whenever an electric discharge takes
pla -e, ozone in stifling quantities ap
pears with the flash. Combustil les
are set on fire in the buildings struck,
and destroyed. Flashes issue from the
furniture in the houses, and g[>arks
lrom the walls, like from an emery
wheel After night the tornado clou-1
i< invariably luminous—often not per
ceived in the daytime—and a wave
like flame on the earth confronts the
cl ud-spot as it sweeps forward on the
surface of the ground.
1 interpret these facts to say that
this luminosity, these sparks and
flames, are electricity, and hence that
tbe whole phenomenon is an electric
one. —Professor J. U. Ties.